Peculiar Oddities
by StakesIsHigh
Summary: With the gods inebriated the logical controls of Earth are torn, and Harry's life gets even stranger. Quite a bit of Adult themed, innuendo based humour.
1. Chapter 1

Peculiar Oddities: Chapter 1

When Simon woke up that morning, he had no idea of the strange events poised to occur in the mortal plane. In fact, he was satisfied to note that school holidays were upon him, and instead of studying trigonometry as the school expected, he was looking to recline, relax, and of course, have sex. The god watching over him that particular moment was frowning, not because of the teenager's elicit thoughts, but rather because he was drunk. For Loki had earlier pilfered a large crate with radioactive markings from America, but instead of finding nuclear devices with which to distract Zeus, leaving him free to steal the boss' kitchen utensils, he discovered with alarm that the seemingly innocent box was filled with wheat and bottles of vodka. The god of tricks had frowned slightly, not comprehending what the latter substance was, but decided that the logical continuation to pursue would be to drink the proffered liquids. After all, he was a god, and that, he concluded, meant he couldn't die. Much partying ensued in the heavenly realm, and although the gods were immortal, they reached a drunken stupor within an hour. And along with the sobriety of the deities, so disappeared the logical controls of Earth.

Simon trudged from the gym wearing an exhausted expression, cursing his friend rather nastily for pushing him so extensively. Arriving at the milk bar, he marched straight to the refrigerator and peered through the glass, contemplating his future purchase.

"Coke…Vanilla Coke… Pepsi Max?" he asked no-one in particular. The glass door shrugged indifferently, narrowing its eyes.

"I know! Water!" he exclaimed, excited by his brilliant calculations. The door disagreed with a shake of its head while sending him a shrewd glare clearly inquiring somewhat condescendingly, especially for a door, as to the limits of his stupidity. Simon however was oblivious, rather surprising considering the extensive warnings from the glass door, which, considering its usual lack of action, was passing for a human quite well.

Although unable to catch the not-so-subtle clues of the door, something apparently registered in his mind reminding him that water is a plentiful substance and is generally cheaper from a tap. Except in Adelaide of course, where health is an issue.

"Fanta…?" he asked weakly, to which the door dispassionately groaned.

The girl behind the counter was eying him curiously, as she had never before seen such time spent on a choice of beverage. Simon was now tapping the window at different points, for a reason not even he could explain. Perhaps he believed this would aid him in his quest for the right drink, or that it would simply summon a genie from which he could request the correct liquid. Whatever the reason, the glass door was no longer observing passively. It was now glaring at the impetuous child with a harsh and unforgiving glare, crossing its arms indignantly.

Now, any slightly sentient being would have realised that this was not the most profitable time to further enrage the door. Even the shopkeeper was creeping slowly away from the counter. In fact, even the less-than-sentient beings were retreating from the door; the chandelier was making every effort to scamper, and the ice-cream compartment had its wheels pointed undoubtedly towards the door, before realising its inability to move. It then settled for quietly cursing. So it was a true indication of the boy's stupidity when he, not only unaware of the exponentially increasing ire of his stealthy companion, decided to punch the glass in frustration.

The ice-cream compartment gasped, and internally, the Heavens were climbing over the briefly immobile Magnums in their scrambled attempt the reach the high ground at the opposite end, when one straggler was brutally stabbed through the middle by the point of a Drumstick. The Drumstick in question was being glared upon by his fellow comrades, who were annoyed at his disregard for their faction's neutrality in the Great War of Cream. He snapped to attention in the way only a conically shaped ice cream could do, and employed his most convincing innocent look. The High Council frowned, apparently able to be disgusted by his 'lost puppy' eyes despite him being a mere ice-cream. Meanwhile the Milo tubs were sleeping.

To say that the glass door wasn't pleased with this latest development would be the equivalent of pointing out that light is fast. Simon found himself on the receiving end of a glare from two very thin slits that were in fact eyes, narrowed to an extent that would have impressed most Asians. Not that he noticed of course, for he was quite stupid. Even a stupid person, however, would notice if a door decided to open itself and smack quite forcefully into his nose. This was the situation that faced Simon. Not expecting such an attack from the door, he was quite naturally defenceless against the blow, and was sent flying into the counter. Having composed himself, the boy was eying the glass door as though he had lost his best friend, silently asking what he had ever done to insult the offender. The door stared back defiantly.

Up till now, you may agree with me when I say that the story has been progressing rather normally, that is to say, that nothing _completely_ out of the ordinary has transpired. But it was at this point in time that Zeus, controller of Earth, passed out from a combination of alcohol and the realisation that his silverware had been stolen.

Many miles and borders away, Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room and wasn't too surprised to see Hermione and Ron engaged in a passionate petting session on the couch. He was just about to turn and leave the room, when he heard a grunt from the direction of the occupied couch. He would have ignored the noise, preferring to pass it off as a product of his friends' 'recreation', but instinct told him that something was wrong. Well, more wrong than a potential accident on the couch. His first reaction after turning around was to blink, something which he rarely ever did. Failing to find anything more intelligent, he shook his head, blinked again, and when the situation had not righted itself, simply stared with a dropped jaw, his body shaking in disgust. For in place of his two best friends, were two overweight naked men that could have passed for Santa Claus if they had been wearing red, rather than their birthday suits. After closing his eyes and counting to ten failed to produce a satisfying change, Harry sighed and mumbled to himself, "Send a letter to Voldemort, tell him I give up." He pointed his wand to his forehead, and, after a hurried "Obliviate", walked out of the common room with no memories of his trying endeavour.

END CHAPTER 1


	2. Chapter 2

Peculiar Oddities: Chapter 2

Harry Potter walked out of his common room happily, having destroyed his memory of the last few minutes of his life. He didn't know why, but _something_ warned him against returning to his common room, and he had decided years ago to always trust his instincts. He was still pondering this when he came upon a muffin. Untouched. On the floor.

"Hmm," frowned Harry, wondering which idiot would leave such an exquisite substance unattended. The muffin lay still on the floor, perhaps pretending that it couldn't hear Harry's mumblings nor understand his dilemma. Or it just didn't care.

"Playing hard to get, eh?" questioned Harry with a slightly disappointed expression. His experience with women had made him painfully aware of the muffin's body language.

Before the muffin could respond, Harry picked up the muffin, his instincts telling him that food on the floor was still food, and would be treated as such. He always trusted his instincts. Even when the muffin began to glow an eerie blue, Harry still followed his feelings deep down that told him to trust this particular sweet. It was only when sparks of electricity appeared in his general vicinity, that Harry decided that this was now most certainly _not_ typical muffin behaviour, and that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Figuratively of course, as the curiosity aroused by the bluish glow had prevented him from viciously assaulting, and potentially even consuming the poor muffin.

So it was to the surprise of both Harry and the muffin, which deep down realised that it was at the bottom of the food chain and thus wished to remain inconspicuous, that the sparks of electricity grew to encompass the corridor. A large metallic clunking sound was heard, and the electricity immediately faded, leaving blackness behind. It was then that both Harry and the muffin fell unconscious.

The glass door was still quite angry at the harsh and inhumane treatment that he had received from the rude boy. Of course, one might be inclined to argue that the door was not completely human itself, and as such, it might be odd to treat it humanely, but the door would have digressed. Unaware of being discussed by the author, it continued to stare at Simon, who had progressed from looking as though he had lost his best friend and was now looking like a child who has just had revealed to him that the shopping mall Santa is really the janitor with a synthetic beard.

As minutes passed however, the door's expression began to fade slightly, miffed at Simon's unchanging expression. The boy on the other hand, was in thought. More than wondering how he had managed to be hit by a glass door of its own will, he was trying to figure out just what he had done to anger it. The injustice of it irked him! Maybe he was an odd child, but in this odd story, it would have been odd if he wasn't odd.

Of course, the door mistook the boy's staring into space for complete and utter shock, and was now beginning to feel somewhat sympathetic for Simon. Before the look of anger vanished from its face however, Simon snapped out of his thoughts, and the previous look of unrelenting anger was present once more. Simon was about to attempt a possible reconciliation with his attacker when the second _slightly_ odd occurrence of his day showed itself.

With a few brief crackles of electricity, a metallic clunking sound, an accompanying gunshot followed by a wounded cry from the ice-cream compartment, a boy materialised from nowhere right between the door and Simon. Simon was completely in awe of what just happened, and for the first time that day, considered the option that he might be dreaming. The door was merely annoyed that it could no longer glare at its target, and cursed its inability to move.

Then a muffin popped into view, and hovered in the air above the new boy's head. Simon had now come to the conclusion that he definitely was dreaming, and thus smiled at the levitating muffin, hoping that it would soon morph into an exceptionally beautiful and equally nude woman. Simon peered at the boy underneath his object of lust and sent a withering glare at him before realising that while the arrival was somehow standing, he was unconscious.

Then the muffin screamed. A piercing, shrill squawk echoed loudly through the room, somewhat akin to that emitted by a banana tree about to be felled. Simon wasn't expecting this from his nymph and also screamed violently. This was enough to wake the new boy, who fell to the floor out of his lack of orientation. Then he too screamed, although this could have been due to the counter that impacted with his head. The door however had now realised that no-one could understand it at all, unlike the muffin, and therefore chose not to scream. It was instead sobbing quietly.

The two boys continued screaming before they discovered that the muffin had stopped yelling and had started cackling evilly instead. They could actually see what they assumed to be its mouth opening and shutting rapidly. It also appeared to be throwing its head backwards and forwards during its peals of laughter. This image was so strange that the boys were now content on sending blank looks at the muffin. The new boy could not observe the muffin from his current position without seriously damaging his neck, and thus moved quietly towards Simon. Simon on the other hand was slightly disappointed at the direction his dream was heading; he didn't know what the muffin was playing at, but he _did_ know that the insane cackling was not turning him on.

Simon turned to the boy, unwilling to destroy his hopes further, "So… who are you?"

"Harry Potter", he replied tonelessly, wondering how someone did not know him. To him, that particular thought was stranger than being transported across the world by a living muffin with a creepy sense of humour.

Simon accepted this without doubt, still slightly irritated that his dream of female nudity was seeming less and less likely. Nevertheless he was appeased to be meeting one of his idols. "Oh wow!" gushed Simon. "I've read so much about you!"

Harry groaned, knowing what was coming.

"J.K Rowling really outdid herself with the last book. Did you _really_ have that underwater threesome? Her description was… wow!" he finished, realising that even though this was a dream, he would still remember any sex tips when he woke.

Harry ignored the subtle cue and decided to blink twice, amazed. He hadn't told anyone about that! Who the hell was this Rowling woman anyway? His word summarised his thoughts, "What?"

Simon continued as if uninterrupted, "… and with the squid's wife too! Wow!"

Harry definitely did not remember that. He was also wondering whether he wanted to hear any more, as Simon was just beginning to speak more quickly and excitedly. "What!" he emphatically enunciated.

"… and that flying broomstick of yours, I've heard the handling is second to none. You've just got to show me it!"

If Harry had something in his mouth, he most certainly would have spat it all over his fan. He didn't even consider the possibility that he had taken Simon's double entendre in completely the wrong way, but, from the direction of the conversation, he couldn't be fairly blamed. "What!" he all but shouted.

The muffin, which had stopped laughing some time ago and was instead eavesdropping, chose this moment to reassert its presence. "Actually, if you pay attention, he's being pretty clear…"

END CHAPTER 2


	3. Chapter 3

Peculiar Oddities: Chapter 3

Hermione had been in heaven; she loved being kissed. In fact, the only reason she had wrenched her lips away was because her face was turning blue. She also opened her eyes, and immediately wished she didn't. For in front of her, or rather, on top of her, was a large, fat, naked man, who looked more like a giant blob of chewing gum than her boyfriend. She tried to push him away from her, but couldn't find a place to grip.

So she squealed, "Oh god." Then she realised that her voice sounded deep, gravely, and certainly not the one she wanted. "Oh god," she muttered again, looking down at her once-firm boobs. A thoughtful expression flitted over her features for a moment, as she mumbled, "At least they'll fill a C Cup now."

It was then that Ron opened his eyes, having grown tired of waiting for her lips to return to his. One could see pain in his eyes. Denial set in. "I am not gay!" he firmly proclaimed. "It's a dream! I do most definitely _not_ have sex with fat chicks, let alone men. Lord, I've seen blubber whales with less fat. I mean, what – whoa!" He stopped in his tracks, reconsidering his stance on the whole situation. "Nice boobs."

Hermione was annoyed, although secretly pleased with his last comment. "Look at yourself."

Ron did so, and screamed, "Aahh!" He was shocked at his new appearance; he was just so fat. He then hesitantly peered at his pelvic region, and his face began to pale quickly. "Where… did it go?" he whimpered quietly.

"Your what?" There was pain in her eyes too.

"My… precious."

She raised her eyebrows. Ron was preoccupied.

He was still looking down, rummaging through his barrels of stomach and waist fat. He pouted to himself fearfully, "What - what happened to… little Ronnie?"

Meanwhile, in a milk-bar far, far away, two boys, an angry door and a sentient muffin were pondering the events of the day; well, the muffin wasn't – it had returned to giggling uncontrollably.

Harry Potter was feeling quite out of place. Being as unique as he was, his days were usually out of the ordinary, but today surpassed any other. Constant attempts on his life were one thing; travelling across the world via muffin was an entirely different experience. He also wasn't sure what to think of the other boy's intimate knowledge of his sex life. The statement about the squid shook him especially. He didn't like discrimination and was all for inter-racial relationships, but inter-species? No, the idea of him and a squid made him shudder slightly.

The glass door was annoyed because it was bored. And it was bored because it wasn't angry. Therefore it was annoyed because it wasn't angry. It thoroughly agreed that being angry was a hell of a lot of fun, and since it wasn't angry, it was not having fun. So it was currently resorting to performing long division in its head. Figuratively of course; doors don't have heads, idiot.

Simon, on the other hand, was simply waiting for something sexy to happen.

It was perhaps a true testament to the strangeness of the situation that no-one questioned what a floating, laughing, talking and mocking muffin was doing there. In fact, Simon still hadn't wondered how a door knocked him in the head.

Harry, wishing to curb his exponentially increasing number of questions, asked the muffin eloquently, "What are you?"

The object in question immediately stopped laughing, and turned to the boy, offended. "What am I? Argh! I do everything I can to act human; I'm laughing at you, talking to you, and even being angry at you! Look, note my furrowed brow." Strange gestures followed.

Harry didn't notice anything, but nodded all the same. He was feeling guilty, and this guilt was magnified when some part inside of him called him an idiot for being made to feel guilty by a muffin.

The muffin continued, "Yet you still treat me as an object. What do I have to do? Liberate all the muffins on the planet? Or perhaps turn them all into hot models and march on parliament? Will you recognise me as human then?"

Simon chose to ignore the irony and nodded vigorously, unable to keep a spaced out, blissful smile off his face. Both the muffin and Harry were looking at him oddly.

Harry recovered first. "Sorry, er… sir? Please tell me who you are, and why you brought me here. Heck, tell me where we are."

The muffin sighed. "It is a tragic tale. In 1877, a cricketing tournament between Australia and England was born. It was called 'The Ashes'. It was an even competition, avidly supported by both countries. But in 1988, the Powers That Be made an interesting bet."

Both Harry and Simon were wondering where this was going.

"You see, Zeus and Loki always had a certain… rivalry between them. They argued and fought over everything."

Harry was still perplexed, while Simon was disappointed at his sudden realisation that the muffin might have been _joking_ about the hot models. _Since when do muffins joke?_ He thought bitterly.

"Everything; they competed for women, money, power, and even kitchen utensils." - The muffin grimaced slightly. "They even," it dropped its voice to a whisper, "thought about… _doing stuff_ with animals!"

Simon shot Harry, who was looking uneasy, a wry grin.

The muffin continued, "Yes, you see, you humans have always thought the gods to be serious and bland, but it couldn't be further from the truth, really. They're quite childish. Anyway, in 1988, perhaps in one of their more innocent bets, Zeus was so sure that he could fit more marshmallows in his mouth than Loki, that he agreed to curse the English cricket team, who he supported avidly, if he lost the challenge."

The boys were at this moment thankful that they were atheists – until they realised that they had just believed a story about the gods, who they didn't believe in. Life was weird like that sometimes.

"Zeus was in front, but he was disqualified when he burst out laughing at his opponent's unfortunate accident involving a razor-sharp hairbrush, and couldn't hold in the marshmallows. And thus, the English cricket team have never won an Ashes Series from that day."

Harry quipped back proudly, "Except 2005?"

The muffin responded with a hint of amusement. Its eyes were twinkling. "Loki was drunk, completely smashed; the curse was broken because the enforcer of the pact was considered mentally unstable at the time. Fortunately for some, that incident has broken the curse."

Harry was feeling slightly humbled. "You mean we won because that god was drunk?"

"Yep," the muffin replied smugly.

The boy was thoughtful, searching for a way to defend his country's team. "You know… this whole thing, this _curse_ business, seems highly immoral."

Simon was sick of his silence. He grumbled, making sure he could be heard, "This coming from the guy who had non consensual intercourse with a yet to be discovered species of sea animal?"

The reply was shouted back, "It _was _consensual!"

Both the muffin and Simon raised their respective brows. "I thought you said you didn't remember?"

Harry was feeling cornered now. "Well, I still don't. I don't think I'm the 'giant squid type', much less the 'rape giant squid type'."

Realising that he had perhaps contradicted himself, he mumbled, "Bugger."

The muffin couldn't resist, and smirked. "That _was_ how it all started."

END CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

Peculiar Oddities: Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore groaned slightly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Stupid wards… always interrupting my favourite dreams." This one in particular involved a sexy Brazilian masseur, named Lobo, rubbing lemon drops into his shoulders. Albus sighed, imagining a potential continuation of his dream in which he defeated Grindelwald by first distracting him with a killing curse and then piercing his left eye with a rapidly accelerating lemon drop. His thoughts returned to the masseur, who was now offering him the aforementioned sweets in exchange for chicken drumsticks.

And people wondered why he depended on his Occlumency so much.

Finally he realised that the wards were shrieking at him. Yelping quietly, he donned clothing more befitting of his many titles than his current pyjamas with imprinted South Park characters. He then extended his mage sight, asking Hogwarts what the problem was. As he viewed the sequence of events that led to Harry's 'capture', the wizard's wrinkled face grew progressively paler. "Oh Harry, what have you done? Never, ever, trust food, especially" – Dumbledore's face scrunched up, and his fists clenched, almost drawing blood – "a muffin."

Albus grumbled nonsensically to himself, knowing that nothing could be done to save the boy now. Instead he decided to check the Visibility Wards around the castle, something that he had neglected to do recently. He wasn't expecting to see anything – after all, it was well after curfew. He was, therefore, surprised to hear sounds coming from the Gryffindor common room.

He was about to investigate further, but a sudden interruption prevented this. It was a portrait; a very distressed portrait.

"Dumbledore!" he shouted, breathing deeply, "Voldemort's minions! Death Eaters in disguise! They're here! Board the doors! Ham-"

"Calm down Nikolai, what brings you to this conclusion?" The old man knew this portrait's behaviour well. He strengthened the room's silencing charms.

The portrait was hyperventilating. It screamed in panic, "Giant bobs of chewing gum, moving! In Hogwarts uniform! Gryffindor Tower!" – The headmaster wondered what Voldemort was playing at - "Hammer planks on to the windows! Protect the secret entrances with Devil's Snare! Place knives in the fireplaces! Cover the quidditch pitch with mouse-traps and floo powder!"

"Allow me a moment to verify the validity of your concerns," interrupted Dumbledore calmly. He paused. "By the way, would you like a lemon drop?"

"I am a piece of canvas, Albus," the reply came to gritted teeth.

"Touché."

Returning back to the wards, he extended his mage sight briefly into the common room in question. Only their shadows were visible in the small firelight, but it was clear that there were too very large men – definitely not Hogwarts students. Assuming that they were a new breed of giant, the headmaster withdrew quickly, shocked and disturbed.

"Oh Tom, you cheeky devil."

He cast Sonorus, and channelled the emergency communication given to him as headmaster, "Students and staff," boomed his voice across the castle, "It has come to my attention that Hogwarts has been breached. Now, listen to my instructions very carefully."

He paused here, possibly allowing for time for the message to sink in, but more likely for dramatic effect.

"Board your doors with what you can find, hammer large pieces of wood onto the windows, Professor Sprout, place Devil's Snare on all entrances out of the castle, prefects, arrange hot pokers in the fireplaces, and all staff, find the collection of…mouse traps… and floo – what?" He said this all very quickly, but calmly.

He turned a questioning gaze to the portrait, who shrugged. "The powder is slippery?"

Minerva and Filius burst into his office forcefully.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted the lady.

"Huh?" replied the headmaster with eloquence belying years of public speaking experience.

"The security breech," replied McGonogall, speaking very slowly.

"Oh, that."

The teachers looked on, while Albus was wondering how to break the news.

"There are… horizontally-challenged giants in the Gryffindor common room," deadpanned Dumbledore.

"Thin giants?" questioned Filius.

"What!" shouted Minerva simultaneously, in shock.

"No," replied Dumbledore, in a grim voice.

Another pause was inserted, and he took the time to shake his head and sigh dramatically. "Anti-horizontally-challenged giants," he corrected. All this was said as though a terrible disaster had occurred, like the ice-cream van driving past your house without stopping.

"So a fat giant?"

"To put it simply… yes, a fat giant," replied the headmaster, pleased at the man's perception.

"We have to save the children Albus, they're in danger!"

He shook his head.

"It would be suicide. If we attack them, they would tear us apart with the very same hot pokers that we placed in the fireplace," Albus kept his face neutral, "besides, the children are safe. They - "

"They are children, Albus!"

"Minerva!" The headmaster raised his voice slightly. "If you had let me continue, I would have said that they have boarded their doors! And hamm-"

The professors glanced at eachother.

Albus sighed. "Alright, we shall act as you wish. One moment."

He turned away from them, and privately sent a message to one of his staff. Moments later, a shaken Remus ran into the office, holding a piece of parchment in his hands.

"Here Albus, the earliest version of the map. It works almost as well the completed copy."

Dumbledore accepted it, smiling at the professor. After first activating it, the headmaster scanned the map for the common room. He sighed when he did not see Harry in his usual location. He shifted his gaze, and frowned for a moment, before neutralising his expression once more.

"It seems… that those are not giants."

The professors looked at him quizzically.

"They are actually Hermione Granger and Ron Weaseley."

Filius was first to recover, smiling. "You knew all along didn't you? This was all a joke to you."

Albus saw his escape. "Yes, yes it was. I was merely testing you on your gullibility, and the extent of your loyalty to me."

Minerva was looking peeved. "And what about the message you sent, that woke up the school? The one involving Devil's Snare, and fireplaces, and floo?"

Albus spouted the first thing that came to his mind, "Fire drill."

"But there hasn't ever been a fire at Hogwarts, in 2000 years," replied an exasperated Minerva.

"Exactly Minerva, exactly," smiled the old man.

Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort was in assembly with an unspecified number of Death Eaters. "Avery, report."

He stepped forward. "My Lord, Potter's situation is in control. We do not yet know who or what the muffin is. We," he gestured towards a smaller, but still unspecified, number of Death Eaters, "believe it may be a new form of self-transfiguration, a 'biomagus' – the ability to take up the appearance of an organic substance."

Voldemort was nodding gravely. "It must be a very powerful and cunning wizard to have achieved such an advanced magical feat. I myself have not even attempted it! The unforeseen consequences could be disastrous! It also infiltrated Hogwarts alone, something which I again have not managed."

He paused, and adopted the tone of an inspirational leader. "The arrival of a third force shifts the focus of this war in unfathomable directions! However, the mere fact that the form of this man is a muffin, one of the most evil foods, reassures me as to the at least partial darkness of this mystery. We must further observe the situation. Potter will not be harmed. Anything else?"

It was Avery again. "It was the strangest thing. I heard Potter admit to intimate relations with the Hogwarts squid! Perhaps there are feelings there; perhaps this is grounds for a future hostage situation to draw him out."

The Dark Lord looked unreasonably angry. "Perhaps you should… CRUCIO!"

He definitely did not want to remember those days at Hogwarts when he had drawn himself out of a deep depression by 'dabbling with wildlife' a bit more intimately than in any orthodox method of feeding the squid. He had lost about four virginities that day.

Yep, he and that Potter brat had one more thing in common, it seemed.

The last thought that the poor Death Eater had before passing out was, 'Is he _blushing?'_

END CHAPTER 4


End file.
